Hell
by Nvrmore
Summary: Speculation on what is happening to Dean and how he gets out of Hell. Full of tasty angst and hurt!Dean, with a touch of hope.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer - I don't own SN, nor am I affiliated with... whomever I would need to be to have any real say about the show. Enjoy.

Oh - A/N - This story is related to my _Generals, Warriors, and Others in Between_ story, but all you really need to know (I think) is that Dean has met and spoken with Joshua before.

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"Sammy."

The name came out as a barely audible rush of air. Dean's voice had given out some time ago, the heat and dehydration making his throat dry and scratchy as his pleas for help went unheard or ignored. The name he forced past his lips was a mantra that kept him anchored and allowed him to keep some sense of self.

Hell is pain.

At first it was the pain of being suspended by hooks that had pierced through his soul-body and dangled him from taut chains, locking him in a web of metal links. He had been able to cry out then – scream for help, yelp as a chain would occasionally be jarred by some unseen presence or his own struggles. But then the heat came. It seemed to travel up the chains and through his body, burning him from the inside out. The fire spread, radiating from the points of contact, consuming him – burning away water, thought, and will. He'd been reduced to the one-word plea.

"Sammy."

The burning was followed by a crawling sensation. At first he thought it was the tongues of the fire licking at him, but it wasn't. He searched his body, more than a little terrified of what he'd see. He'd burned enough bodies in his days to know what he should have looked like. Instead, his body seemed whole, though closer inspection revealed that something was moving beneath his skin. He watched with morbid fascination as, in a hundred different places, his skin ripped open from the inside and small maggots ate their way to the surface and crawled over his flesh. He let out a hoarse cry and his whole body jerked sending a wave of searing pain and fire through his being when the chains holding him did not give. As quickly as his skin was broken and a maggot emerged, the hole would seal itself, only to have the maggot burrow back under the skin – a never ending feast for worms that would never die.

Unable to move, he could not wipe the insidious creatures from his face as they crawled over his eyes and in his nose and ears. And every shake of his head as he tried to dislodge them served only to jerk his body against the unforgiving chains that impaled him, ripping more cries of pain from him as the hooks tore at his flesh.

Hell is eternity.

Eternity is a peculiar thing which, in itself, threatened to drive him to madness. There was no focal point of "present" with which to compare the past or to hope for the future. Yet he could see and experience the past – what part of him realized he was remembering past events – as if it was happening now. Images of every horror he'd ever witnessed plagued his mind. Failings, both perceived and actual, ate at his being. And the physical pain from the past was as real as if it was currently happening, adding to the torture of his body that was already driving his mind to the brink of collapse. His present and past became one. He had no future because he had no hope – one cannot look beyond the "now" if there is nothing to look forward to - not even an "end."

So he dwelt in eternity - time meaningless. And whether he was there a second or a thousand years, he didn't know and it did not matter. It was all the same. Why he tried to anchor himself at all, he couldn't even answer; but the last vestiges of his self-preservation instinct made him try.

"Sammy."

Hell is despair.

None of his thoughts and memories remained untouched by the emptiness. This place lacked coloring. Everything was red flame and black shadow. But the red was dull, not like the vibrant yellows and oranges of fire on earth. The black was a tangible absence of everything and it was crushing. It lacked distinct sound, like an office filled with white noise. There were constant whisperings, but they were muffled and unclear, no matter how he strained to make sense of them. The smell of sulfur, blood and sweat overrode any other smell that had once existed. And he tasted nothing but coppery blood and salty tears.

The one name he called – the only coherent thought Dean could muster – even that was being twisted. At one time he believed that Sammy was the one good thing he had done. When all his other deeds would be burned away, raising Sammy and helping shape who he would become was the one thing that gave Dean's life meaning. Sam was his legacy. But now the good intentions for his every act on earth were stripped away and his true motives were laid bare before him. And he saw what it really meant to be fallen - depraved. He began to believe that Sam was better off without his influence.

His call faltered and the last of him began to slip away.

"Sam," the tormented man sobbed.

Dean had never experienced loneliness like this before. He would never be with his family again. Everything that ever mattered to him was stripped away.

Hell is nothingness.

Dean recognized, in a moment of clarity, that this truly was a Godless place. The absence of His presence was what laid the foundation for every torture that now consumed him – no healing, no better tomorrow, no hope. And all he could say to that realization was "God" – the one word, one name, that seemed all encompassing now, yet beyond him.

It should have been his last thought. But it wasn't.

There was a shift in Dean's perception. A small flicker of light appeared somewhere revealing the dark for what it was – absence of light – and the light grew brighter. It brought with it a building feeling and, though the pain Dean experienced seemed to escalate, something flickered to life, too. Hope.

Dean watched as the ethereal light congealed until, standing before him, was the last person he ever expected to see again.

"Joshua," Dean breathed. The name was filled with emotion: surprise, hope, pain, need.

"Dean," Joshua smiled slightly even as the tears rolled down his cheeks, his own sadness blanketing him and making him appear smaller and less powerful than Dean could ever remember.

Dean glanced around. With the appearance of the angel, many demons also appeared. They kept a tight circle around the two non-demons, but did not attack and did not interfere.

The angel's presence seemed to shield Dean from some of the torture he was experiencing. Though the fire remained, the maggots seemed to have receded. It was enough to allow the young man coherent thought.

"How?" Dean managed.

"How am I here?" Joshua asked. Dean gave a barely visible nod. "You don't think that if Satan can stand in the throne room of God, we would be any less able to come to this…" Joshua glanced at his surroundings, "place."

Dean remembered his first encounter with Joshua and even managed to pull off a shadow of his former smirk. "You have… a message…?" The last word barely made it past his lips as the effort to speak cost him dearly.

"You are being brought back."

At this statement, the demons surrounding them hissed and spit angrily, but again seemed unwilling or unable to interfere.

"Back?"

Joshua nodded once. "The General has allowed your brother to call you forth."

There was something in the angel's countenance that made Dean uncomfortable. "What…" The question got stuck in his throat because he wasn't sure he wanted an answer. Dean licked his lips and tried again, realizing he needed to know. "What… did Sam… do?"

Joshua shook his head. He stared off into the distance for a moment before bringing his attention back to Dean. "That is not for me to tell you."

Dean grunted in frustration.

Joshua tilted his head somewhat as if listening to something Dean could not hear. When he looked back at the older brother, he nodded. "It is time. And Dean," the angel paused and made sure he had Dean's full attention. "This is going to hurt."

Dean actually let out a snort of laughter at this statement, but that pulled his body in opposition to the chains and sent fire through him. A tear escaped from the corner of his eye and he was mildly surprised that he had any water left in him for such a gesture.

Dean noticed the angel had not laughed when he did, and realized that Joshua was not lying or exaggerating. Fear rippled through him as he wondered how he could possibly experience any more pain than he already was.

"No," Dean faltered. He was where he belonged and Sam didn't need him anymore. Plus, he couldn't bear the thought of more pain. "Leave… me."

Joshua looked truly mournful as his penetrating stare pierced Dean. "I'm sorry. But just as the General has established rules on your plane, He established rules that govern this one. You have no choice. I must bring you back and they," Joshua nodded toward the circle of demons, "cannot interfere. Young Sam has set things in motion that can no longer be undone." Joshua's eyes softened and he tried to offer some comfort. "Just believe that _this_ pain _will_ pass. I promise."

As with his past encounters with Joshua, Dean knew that the angel was telling the truth. He frowned in concentration and began to recite a new mantra - "this pain will pass" - then nodded to Joshua to begin whatever it would take to return him to the land of the living.

Joshua recognized the moment Dean accepted what he had said. He unfurled his wings, making ready the sharpened armor attached to their edges, and he unsheathed his sword. He allowed the light within him to come to the surface. He heard Dean's hiss of pain and watched the young human turn his head away from the light that was burning his eyes. It was impossible for a human to stand in the glorified presence of God and live. It was nearly as difficult for a damned soul to stand in the glorified presence of an angel – but at least he wouldn't die. Again the demons hissed and this time they shrieked in pain as well.

Joshua turned his body, orienting himself so that his now outstretched wing tips were near Dean's head and feet. With a single, deathly-accurate and simultaneous stroke, Joshua's left wing whipped through the two chains attached to Dean's legs, while his right wing cut through the ones attached to his shoulder and left arm, and his sword swept through the ones binding his right arm and side.

In a surge of pain that would have caused him to pass out, had he been alive, Dean's whole body tensed and arched as the hooks jerked his body before releasing all pressure. He screamed then fell, suddenly free from the chains that pulled him in different directions.

It took less than a second for Joshua to catch the falling soul, but their contact caused Dean to cry out until he could cry no more as holy came in contact with unholy and something akin to lightning crackled between the two, igniting every nerve in the human's system. Joshua's wings snapped closed behind him, rocketing him up and out of hell.

Unseen by the humans present in the room, the two beings crashed through the floor. Dean fell from Joshua's arms with a thud, as the angel collapsed to the floor. The front of his uniform was singed and he had burns on his shoulder, neck, chest and arms where prolonged contact with Dean's soul as he carried back.

Joshua looked over at his charge and pulled himself to his hands and knees, his wings drooping to the floor. His task was not yet finished. The chains had been cut, but the hooks were still imbedded in Dean and they had to be removed so he could be place back in his fleshly shell.

Dean groaned in pain and started moving again by the time Joshua crawled to him.

"Dean," Joshua said quietly – partly so as not to startle Dean, and partly because it was all the energy he could muster. "I'm almost finished."

Dean's eyes opened and locked with Joshua's. Tears were again streaming down his face, having sustained his own burns, but he nodded understanding and tried to brace himself, instinctively know the pain wasn't over yet.

Joshua placed a hand on Dean's thigh. The young man tensed and clenched his jaw tight as the touch still burned, though it was considerably less now that he was back in his own plane of existence.

Joshua looked into Dean's eyes and nodded. With a quick jerk, he ripped the first hook from Dean's soul, eliciting another yell of pain. He moved on to the next hook and then the next. Each time a hook was removed. Dean was better able to handle being touched by the angel – the last vestiges of Hell being removed from him.

Joshua wiped his hands on his clothes, ignoring the white-gold blood streaks they left behind. He removed the next two hooks, leaving only one more. Joshua sat back on his heals and gathered his strength. Entering Hell had drained him. Carrying Dean back had nearly killed him. He realized he may well use the last of his reserves finishing this task, and that was okay. He had been honored to serve as guardian for this one.

Joshua focused his attention on the last hook that remained. It was the one through Dean's side. Joshua placed his hand on Dean's stomach and leaned forward to look in Dean's eyes once more.

"Last one," he said with a smile that was meant to comfort. Joshua wrapped his hand around the last hook and chain. He could no longer feel the burning on his hand. Had he been human, doctors would have said he was burned so badly that the nerves in his hand had been destroyed. But he was spirit and even if he couldn't feel his hand, he could will himself to use it. He counted to himself then pulled. His blood soaked hand slipped from the chain, leaving it still imbedded though having torn the spirit-flesh of Dean's soul.

"NO!" Dean cried out. "No more," he pleaded and feebly tried to push Joshua away.

Joshua cringed. "I'm sorry."

"No," Dean whimpered again, but as he did, Joshua took that moment to pull one last time, succeeding in pulling the last hook free. Dean rolled away from Joshua, curling in on himself.

Joshua reached his hand out to touch Dean's shoulder, but the young man jerked away from the touch. He continued to watch as Dean's soul was drawn back into his body, seemingly peacefully, and he drew his first breath.

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A/N - Thank you and I hope you enjoyed. The next chapter is the epilogue. It is a very brief conversation between Joshua and the General. Neither of the boys make an appearance. It follows directly after these events, but the feel of that part of the story is different from this part so I wanted to separate it.

Thank you to those who review. Thank you to my betas-extraordinaire: Mom, J.A. Carlton, and hubby, without whom this story would not be nearly as good.


	2. Epilogue

Epilogue

From his position on the floor, Joshua looked on with sorrow and compassion at Dean's first few waking seconds. "He will never be the same."

"No, he won't," the General spoke, and Joshua saw the smile that lit the General's eyes. "It will make him better."

"He will feel even more like an outsider than before," Joshua observed. There was no hint of malice or condemnation in his words, just empathy for his charge.

"Only until he finds his way home."

"Things will never be the same between him and Sam again."

"As it should be. Sam cannot be his god if he is to fulfill his purpose."

"He will have new challenges now."

"Yes." And for the first time in that conversation, Joshua heard the sadness in the General's voice. "But they are consequences of his own making."

"You could…" Joshua's words were cut off by a look from the General.

"Free will," the General reminded the angel, who nodded in understanding. The General knelt by His downed soldier and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Joshua immediately felt his strength return and the burns heal. He glanced at his hands and saw scars in the shape of the chains on the palms of his hands. He opened and closed his hands a few times now that feeling had been restored to them. He looked up at his General who was smiling at him.

Nodding at His angel's hands, he said, "Scars are reminders of both victories and failures. Joys and sorrows. They encourage and serve as a motivation to do better." The General looked lovingly at his man-child. "He will have new scars as well due to decisions he made of his own volition. I would not want to take away his chance to heal and change - to become stronger. They are bound by time, and as such, I will deal with him - in time."

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Another A/N - Just like Generals, this story is a reaction to what has occured on the show and is not necessarily going anywhere at this time. As such, it is a one-shot. Thanks again and I hope you enjoyed.


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